Page 54 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

I love her.The message, so simple, seemed so perfect. I hit send and waited.

Her childhood home was exactly how I remembered it. Warm, familiar, comforting. Michael waved me into the living room, and I caught sight of Claire.

She looked… different. Like she’d lost a few pounds, like she hadn’t been sleeping. Or she’d been working several jobs and not taking care of herself. It broke my heart. But her soft eyes were still filled with a strong resolve.

I owed her this. The truth. It started as a contract. I was going to tell her everything. Because for the first time, I was terrified I’d lose.

I thought it would be easy. Walk up the steps, knock on the door, face whatever came next. I was not prepared for the way my chest twisted at the sight of her. Not ready for the emptiness in her eyes. She was done with me. But I had to try, one last time.

She stood, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Softness, gone. No welcome. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Michael let out a quiet sigh beside her. “Claire.”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. If I had any doubt about whether I belonged here, her glare settled it. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this ended with her telling me to leave, shutting me out for good.Again.

She scoffed but stepped back, barely. “You really think—”

“Claire, enough,” her mother said, exasperation coating her voice. “Let him talk.”

Claire's lips pressed together, but she didn’t argue. She watched me, guarded, bracing for whatever mess I was about to unleash. Waiting for something she clearly didn’t want.

The thought tightened my throat. But it pushed me forward too.

For Claire, I would walk through hell, even if it burned me alive.

“It started as a contract.” My words stilled the room. They should have been easy. But nothing was easy with her—not anymore.

She deserved more. And for the first time, I was ready to give it.

Claire didn’t move. Her fingers tightened into fists as she dropped her arms to her sides, her posture rigid, unreadable. She had changed me—the only one who ever had—and I had been too blind to see it.

Her gaze held mine, calm. Too calm. While everything around her shifted, I paused, waiting for her next move. But she didn’t make one. Not yet. Not in the way I expected.

Michael watched, hopeful, urging me forward with a nod. Her mother’s narrowed eyes held doubt and a touch of anger. And Jen—Jen didn’t need words. I could feel her smirk, the disbelief, the chaos boiling beneath the surface.

"Wait, what?" Jen’s laughter followed the words, sharp and intrusive. I barely acknowledged her. Barely cared. Because this wasn’t about her.

"You were using her?" She laughed again—like this was all a joke only she understood. "God, Claire, how pathetic—"

"Enough." The way I said the word made her shrink back, her eyes widening.

The silence turned to steel.

For the first time, she stood against the tide that had always swept her under. It wasn’t just Jen who was stunned. Her mother drew a sharp breath, uncertain what to make of this shift. Michael looked on, a silent cheerleader, as if he had always known she had this strength.

Maybe he and I were the only ones who did. Until now.

Claire held firm, held power, and for once, she controlled the room.

She was everything I hadn’t known I needed.

I took a breath—a shaky, uneven breath—and pushed forward.

"It was meant to make my ex jealous," I said. I felt raw, exposed, stripped of anything that might soften the blow. There was undeniable proof Claire deserved better, that I was not good for her. The truth hit the air and there was no taking it back.

I didn’t want to. Not anymore.

Claire had always deserved more than the contract, more than the lie, more than I had been willing to give. But now? Now she had it all. If she wanted it.

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